A Martin Is More Than A Bird, Sir
by Loblolly
Summary: One author who likes the Patriot and Horatio Hornblower both just a little too much... plus the double eye candy that is Gruffudd and LEdger!
1. Meridith's Story

This is totally fiction, and based on the C.S. Forester Hornblower novels and the A&E miniseries of the same name. Okay, it's almost totally miniseries, and I've thrown some things out the window entirely. What can I say.... I wanted a chance at Ioan Gruffudd helpless 8^) (I AM shameless!) And Archie and Horatio both go through a lot in this... if you don't like seeing either of them slightly beaten up upon, consider yourself warned. Meridith, Julia, Ms. Brummel, and 'The Wharf Girls' belong to me.... okay, Meridith IS me, but Horatio Hornblower and Archie Kennedy and any other characters from the miniseries that meander through are not mine, they belong to C.S. Forester, A&E and their respective actors. And, at the risk of this being totally timelineilly inaccurate,(it's fiction, live with it!) yes, Meridith Martin is the daughter of Benjamin and Charlotte Martin from The Patriot, and her brother (gasp!) is Gabriel Martin as played by Heath Ledger... how's two lickable characters in one fanfic strike you? So, at the risk of sending C.S. Forester spinning in his grave and all the people associated with the Patriot running away screaming, here's my wishes for the Hornblower universe. And the paranormal? Blame it on Angel.   
  
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It has been determined that the theme song for this story is Dante's Prayer by Loreena McKennitt on her Book of Secrets C.D. The white mice subjected to both this story and the music shredded the story to use for bedding and ignored the music. Ain't science great.   
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It was the fifth of July in Spithead. The only reason Meridith knew this was that she had been expecting fireworks yesterday and was rather disappointed when she realized that the losing country in the war was not likely to be celebrating the colonies' freedom. Aah well. She grabbed her cloak and thumped down the stairs, snagging the marketing basket from the landing table on her way to see who was manning the kitchen today. Putting her ear to the door, Meridith listened for a cue to enter. With all the banging and clanging and swearing from the other side, it could be none other than Julia, bad-tempered and hot-headed as usual. Pushing through the swinging door, Meridith crept behind Julia's turned back and took a seat on the stool in the corner of the kitchen to wait for Julia to come out of her rage and give her the market list. Knowing Julia, it could take a while before she was even recognized as being in the room.   
A pot struck the floor near the stool and Meridith looked down at it. Julia looked over at the same pot and realized that Meridith had "snuck" in. With a screech, she launched into Meridith, harping about all sort of things that Meridith really had no need to hear. Julia thought she owned the house, and all the girls in it. In reality, the brothel was owned by Ms. Brummel and all the girls, Julia included, paid part of their weekly earnings to her in return for their own room for 'entertaining'. It was quite the vicious circle. Meridith was the only one who didn't pay any rent. Instead she was kept on as 'the poor Patriot girl'.  
Granted, she had come from America after the Revolution and the wars and the Declaration, but there was nothing poor about her sprit and heritage, only her monetary value. She was the only child of Benjamin and Charlotte Martin but had seven other siblings. It was a complicated family, her father's first wife having died after having seven children, and her father had marrying his wife's sister, making both wives both aunt and mother to the now eight children. Two of her brothers had died before she was born, both at the hands of the same man during the Revolution in the colonies. She had small drawn portraits of them stored away up in one of the trunks in the corner of her attic room. Occasionally she took them out to sit and wonder what they had been like. The elder had had messy blonde hair and dimples, and brown eyes that you could fall into. Her father had said that he was quite the lady's man and Meridith could understand why. The younger of the two had on a tricorner hat at a cocky angle and his fine brown hair was loose around his face. He had a goofy smile plastered on his face, showing charmingly crooked teeth and his blue eyes sparkled.   
"Meridith!" Julia snapped, and struck the side of Meridith's face with a towel to get her attention. Meridith started, waking up from her daydream of the plantation back home and looked alert for Julia's benefit. Julia was in a cracking bad mood and taking it out on anything near her.   
"I guess I have to trust you with this." Julia thrust a hastily scrawled marketing list at Meridith, barely letting the other girl get ahold of it before dropping the small money sack in her hands as well. Meridith settled both things safely in the pocket of her cloak and let Julia screech at her about being civil to the shopkeepers and polite to the men, because it wouldn't do if the girl who was only the healer in the house and almost the hired help at that to be scaring away the customers for those girls in the house who actually had to work! Meridith shrugged her off, waving her a goodbye as she went out the back kitchen door into the alley. Pausing, she hung the basket on a nail sticking from the wall of the next house and threw her cloak over her shoulders against the persistent English morning fog.   
Hooking the basket over her arm, she poked through the money bag as she moved out of the alley and down the street, her attention focused on the list and the amount of money she had been given rather than the crowded street. Meridith smiled as she reached the first store. It looked like Julia had been kinder than intended and given her the chance, if she was thrifty, to have money left over to purchase the herbs she had been running out of. As the door opened the bell tinkled above her and the shopkeeper, Mr. Siebleman looked up.  
"Ahh, Meridith. I was wondering when you would be through again." Most of the storekeepers knew Meridith and her story and didn't scorn her the way they did the rest of the brothel girls like Julia. After she had turned fourteen, Meridith had decided that she wanted to go to England and see what she could do for herself there. Her father was less than happy, remembering the battles between the Americans and the British, but her mother had just smiled and said something about the 'adventurous Martin spirit." So her father relented, and she was packed off to England in less than a month, with the warning that if she hadn't found a way to support herself in a proper way by the time she was twenty, she was coming home and being married to Thomas Moore, the boy from Apple Hollow. In reality, that was part of the reason she had come in the first place... he was a nice enough boy, but a little, well... slow, you might say. And so far, she was doing all right for herself. All she had learned about healing had been taught to her by Silvia, one of the free Negros that worked on the family plantation. After she had come over here to England, Meridith had fallen in with a group of other healers, and taken the job at the brothel when nobody else would. It was a place to live while looking for something her mother would consider proper. Ah well. It was a start, at least. And if she was lucky, she would find a nice rich boy over here and marry him and then 'proper' would be the least of her mother's worries. Meridith smiled back at Mr. Siebleman.   
"Good morrow, Mr. S. I'm here looking for your finest fresh strawberries. Which farm is bringing the sweetest this week?"   
Mr. Siebleman, or Mr. S, as people called him, led her over to a low crate of strawberries. "These are just in from the Morgan farm, and I've been hearing nothing but good about them."   
Meridith picked one up and held it in the light, squeezing gently. "I think we'll take one box of these, and then a crate of the Fillmont apples and a half-flat of the McKenna oranges."   
Mr.S smiled. "You always do know the best bargains, don't you Meridith?"   
"That's what they keep me around for, Mr. S. To make sure that old shopkeepers like you don't sell them the bruised fruit from the bottom of the barrels." Meridith replied gamely.  
This produced a deep belly laugh from the shopkeeper. "Fillmont, McKenna and Morgan it is, Meridith. Is there anything else I can get for you this fine day?"   
"I do think that's it, thank you. How much are you depriving me of this time?"   
Mr. Siebelman did a few quick calculations on the paper at the front of he store. "Five pounds and twopence, if you please Meridith."   
She dug into the moneybag and produced the required sum. "Thank you Mr. S. And those will be brought around later this morning? Julia will be expecting them."  
The old shopkeeper nodded. "Don't worry, your Julia will have nothing to be upset with you about."  
Meridith smiled. "Thank you Mr. S." The bell on the door tinkled again as she left and she waved on her way out.   
The rest of the shopping too took less time than usual, even though there seemed to be more than ever to carry back and her basket soon got heavy and unwieldy. The very last stop she made was at Glouster's Apothecary for her herbs. Mrs. Glouster greeted her on her way in and took her into the back room to look at the newest batch of dried herbs that had been gathered earlier that morning.   
"This is the latest batch of feverfew. Mary gathered it out in Hampshire's field, and it's not as young as I'd have liked it but it was all she could find." Mrs. Glouster held out a bundle of small green plants bound together with a waxen string. Hurriedly putting her heavy basket aside, Meridith crushed the tip of one of the leaves with her fingers and held it to her nose. The pungent odor assured her that although it might have been young feverfew it would still be a potent headache remedy.   
"'Twill be fine, Mrs. Glouster. I'll be able to use less and save more with the younger leaves." She put the feverfew in her basket and glances around at the other fresh drying herbs. "Do you have any witch hazel? Alianora has a few nasty bruises she's itching to get rid of."   
The apothecary took a small blue bottle off a shelf and handed it to Meridith, who put it in the basket, thinking out loud to herself. "Aloe I have plenty of, and wheatgrass. I'm getting low on coneflower and anise, and comfrey."   
Mrs.Glouster put three more bundles into Meridith's hand as she thought, and then as Meridith was putting them into the basket, she remembered which other he was in dire need of.   
"Wintergreen! Two bundles, if you please, Mrs. Glouster. It's for the girls' hangovers you know."   
Mrs. Glouster clucked her tongue as she handed Meridith the wintergreen.   
"I don't like you staying in that place, Meridith." The older woman began tallying Meridith's price as she talked. "Those girls, they'll come to no good, the lot of them, when it comes to Judgment Day. I do wish you'd come stay with me. You and your knowledge of herbs, we could be a wonderful team. That will be six shillings and fivepence."   
Meridith handed her the money, smiling. "You know that 'those girls' would go absolutely mad if I left them, Mrs. Glouster."  
"And what would be the matter with that?"   
"Because then I would be out of a place to live."   
"You could live here with me. Over the store."  
Meridith shook her head. Every visit here ended like this. "I appreciate it, Mrs. Glouster, and I'll keep your offer in mind." The apothecary gave Meridith the appropriate change and shooed her out the back door after slipping a bundle of lemon drops amongst the items in her basket.   
  
Meridith was smiling as she walked back to the brothel. At least she was being well-looked after. Her mother had nothing to worry about. Her mother Charlotte would love to meet Mrs. Glouster and Mr. S, and all the other shopkeepers who watched over Meridith like a small army of guardian angels hovering just slightly over the girl's head. This image rather entertained Meridith, seeing in her minds eye miniatures of all the shopkeepers and townspeople that knew her with rather large white wings growing our of their backs creating a glowing halo around her head. She was so entertained with it in fact that she wasn't watching her footing as she reached the brothel. Her foot fouled on something in the street gutter and sent her sprawling, basket flying, and goods spilling into the muddy street.  
"Devil take it!" Meridith cried and turned her basked upright again, trying to salvage as much as she could before the mud soaked into everything and ruined it for good. As she reached for the last cone of sugar, her eyes turned to the gutter and she realized what it was she had tripped over.   
She gasped, and all but threw the muddy purchases into the basket, scrambling forward to make sure she wasn't seeing things. She wasn't.   
All she could see was his back, and it was rather unremarkable. Obviously at one time he had been at least somewhat important. He wore a blue jacket and white breeches, both now covered in grime. The white stockings were torn and shabby and the shoes had seen better days. His hair was long and wavy, and at one time had probably looked quite remarkable, but now the ever-present grime had matted it and snarled it around itself, giving his queue a rather ratty appearance. Hesitantly, Meridith pushed at his shoulder until he limply fell over onto his other side and exposed his front.   
Eyes wide, Meridith recognized the cut and fashion of the coat. He was a lieutenant in the navy. She recognized the white lapels of the coat from her four year-elder brother's books of military stories. She brushed the hair out of his eyes and he stirred ever so slightly under her touch. She jumped back as if burned, having thought he was dead. Well, then, this put a whole new spin on things! If she could get him up to her room in the brothel, she might be able to nurse him back from death's doorstep. And if she could get him up and about again, he could go back to sea. And if he happened to win a prize ship and get the money he might think kindly on her and give her just even an eighth of it and she might be able to become her own self sufficient girl. Her thoughts were broken into by a hacking cough and the body in the gutter spasmed. Silently chiding herself for letting her thoughts run away with her again, she hooked both arms under the man and pulled him up until he was sitting. His eyelids opened slightly, revealing deep chocolate brown eyes and he looked at her muzzily.   
"Mariette?" he croaked. Meridith shook her head.   
"Sir, can you stand? Can you help me get you inside?" she asked. He reached out and put his hand on her shoulder then struggled to his feet, leaning on her rather heavily and unsteadily. Grabbing the marketing basket, she threw his arm over her shoulders in an attempt to help keep him upright and started leading him towards the house. The door presented a bit of a problem, but she managed.   
Once in side she mentally kicked herself. She had forgotten totally about the three flights of stairs up to the top of the house and her room. *Well, hell's bells* she thought to herself, then took the plunge.   
"Sir, you're going to have to go up some stairs here. Just lift your feet sir. That's it, you can make it." With much coaxing, she managed to keep him upright until the first landing. Foolishly, she paused, presumably to let him gather his strength for the next flight, and he crumpled to the ground again. No amount of pleading, prodding or pinching could wake him up. *It's a good thing the other girls are in their rooms with ale-head problems or I'd never hear the last of this.* Finally, Meridith gave up and picked the man up with her arms locked around his chest. For a full grown near-six-foot man, he was amazingly light. And smelled amazingly rancid. She paused only briefly on the second landing to stretch out her arms before dragging him in a most uncivilized way up the last rickety flight to the garret room she called home.   
Draping the unknown man unceremoniously over her thin mattress, she pulled the recently purchased herbs out of the basket and ran back down the stairs, basket swinging from her elbow to burst in through the kitchen door and deposit her purchases in front of a still peeved Julia.   
"What took you so long?!" Julia screeched.  
"I can't talk now Julia, I'm sorry, let's just say I stumbled over something that needed my attention." Leaving the basket and her purchases and Julia with her mouth hanging open like a fish, Meridith tucked up her skirts and dashed back up the three flights of stairs to her room and mystery man.   
  
He had gone from being draped face down over the bed to curled in the corner sweating and shaking in the time it took Meridith to get downstairs and back again. Kneeling beside him, she put a hand on his forehead. Even though he flinched and pulled away, she could tell that he was burning up with fever. Somehow, Meridith managed to wrestle the sweaty shivering body into the thin, lumpy bed. He seemed to calm a little and go from deleria to true sleep, giving her the chance to assess the situation a little better. Brushing the loose hair away from his face she got her first look at this man from the gutter. He was young, with wavy dark hair, thick eyelashes, a strong chin. Meridith laughed out loud. He was easily the most handsome young lieutenant in England. And he had chosen *her* doorstep to collapse on. The irony wasn't lost on Meridith. Meridith Martin who had the family Martin nose that took up more than its fair share of the owner's face, Meridith with the American accent as wide as a street and almost as murky, Meridith with the unruly curly hair that she had chopped short to save her having to fuss with it daily, short infuriating Meridith who didn't have any of the attractive qualities her brothers did or the amazing blonde hair of her sisters. No, the irony was entirely not lost on her.   
With a smile, she stood and went over to the small trunk under the slit window. Opening it, she rummaged through the dried herbs and small bottles before producing a small envelope. Opening the envelope she let three small pink meadowsweet flowers fall into her hand. Closing the trunk, she took a tea ball and a mug from the side of the trunk and placed it on top. Letting the flowers fall into the tea ball, she took a chunk of willow bark from a hanging basket in the window and added a few drops of peppermint oil to the mug. Glancing at the lieutenant once more, she dashed down the stairs to coax a pitcher of hot water from Julia, and hurried back up as quickly as she could without spilling steaming water all over Ms. Brummel's precious oak staircase. She pushed her door open with her foot and set the hot and dripping pitcher down on top of the trunk. Wiping her hands dry on her skirt, she took her apron down from its nail beside the door and wrapped her hand in a corner of it to lift the hot pitcher and pour water into the mug of plant remedies.   
She did remarkably well with the heavy pitcher, only spilling a little onto the top of the trunk. Mixing the herbal concoction with the wrong end of a hatpin, Meridith sat down on the side of the bed. Holding the warm mug in her apron-wrapped hand, she put one hand on the lieutenant's forehead. It was still burning hot and he moved slightly, turning his face towards her. Since he was still asleep, Meridith decided that the willow tea could wait and set it down on the crate that acted as her bedside table. It was better that he was actually getting rest than she was pouring her brews into him, no matter how much they might help.   
"Hot...." it was barely a whisper. "Archie... so hot...." He was lying on his stomach, making it simple for Meridith to gently shrug him out of the heavy blue woolen coat. She hung the muddy coat over the back of her chair, brushing the white lapels off. She could only guess that it was his pride and joy, showing the whole world that he was indeed a lieutenant in the King's navy. Meridith smiled, and then turned back gently rolling him onto his side so she could get his threadbare waistcoat unbuttoned and off and untie his cravat. Having undressed him down to his shirt and breeches, she slipped his scuffed and thin shoes off, and followed them with the holed white stockings. Hell, she smiled, he even had handsome feet. Fearing he might be uncomfortable without the many layers he was accustomed to, Meridith pulled the sheet from the foot of the bed up to his waist. He had rolled onto his front again and had his head pillowed on his arms. His eyes were fluttering open and closed as he tried to stay semi-awake. Meridith put her hand on his forehead again. He already felt a little cooler, but that could just have been her imagination.   
Standing up, she took the pitcher once again and poured part of the water out into her washbasin. Taking a clean handkerchief, she dipped it in the basin and then gently sponged the grime off of the young man's face. The dirt came off easily, and she hadn't realized it before, but he was bruised up as if he had been in a fight of some sort, or at least gotten on someone's bad side. His lip had a small split in it and there was a dark bruise at the top of his left eye, right under his eyebrow. Smaller and less serious bruises were scattered over the rest of his face. Sighing, Meridith dampened the handkerchief one more time and then folded it, putting it on his hot forehead. He had been watching her periodically, when he could muster the strength and or presence of mind to keep his eyes open. Now he let them close with a sigh. Meridith smoothed the hair back from his face before getting up from the side of the bed. She picked up the mug of fever herbs and moved it over under the window to wait for later. Tying her apron around her waist, she opened the door to go downstairs and see what she would be doing that night to help the girls with their 'work'. Usually it was just keeping the wine flowing, a tireless and thankless job. Sighing, Meridith ran her hand through her hair and turned to go.   
There was a small sound from the young man on the bed, and Meridith turned around. He was still lying down, but she could see his eyes were open. He licked his lips.   
"My.. name......" he croaked. "My.. name... is... Hornblower.... Horatio... Hornblower..."   
Meridith smiled and went back over to his side.   
"Well met. My name is Meridith Martin."   
"Meri..dith?"  
"Yes." She put her hand on his forehead and then the back of it on his cheek. "Sleep now, Horatio Hornblower. Sweet dreams." She tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ear. He closed his eyes and sighed, shifting a little. Meridith pulled the blanket up and tucked it around his shoulders before getting up. She took the lantern from it's usual place beside the bed and hung it on a nail in the rafter above the bed. Lighting the candle stub in it, she took one more look at 'her' lieutenant, and slipped out the door.   
  



	2. Horatio's Story

For his part, Lieutenant Horatio Hornblower of His Majesty's Frigate Indefatigable decided that it was high time he... and fell asleep. He had been living in the gutter for what must have been the better part of a month, after living in a hellhole of a French prison for the better part of two months, before escaping and somehow making his way back to jolly old England. It was long and involved, and he was sure that if he ever tried to tell the whole story to anyone he would forget some vital detail and be passed off as some half-mad lieutenant looking for sympathy and or money from whoever would listen. This was precisely why the whole story was scrawled down on a wad of parchment in the pocket of his dress coat, which was now draped over the back of a chair across the room from him.   
It had all started after the fiasco at Muzillac. The Indefatigable had captured an undercrewed and overloaded French brig off the coast of Spain. Thinking to take his protégé's mind off the recent losses, Captain Pellew had given Lieutenant Hornblower the duty of taking the newly acquired 'Revolution' to Admiral Taylor's fleet around the coast of Norway. Hornblower knew that he was being 'gotten rid of' until he started behaving more like himself again, and he knew that there wasn't really a true fleet on Norway's coast, just a motley assortment of England's captured ships, but for some obscure reason which he still hadn't figured out, he decided to indulge Captain Pellew and take the ship up to join the others. It was all arranged that once the Revolution was safe, Horatio and his crew would be given passage back to England on the next supply ship.   
Of course, most of the crew was chosen by Captain Pellew, but Hornblower did get a few of his choices-Mr. Kennedy was coming along as midshipman, and Styles, Matthews and Oldroyd coming along as leaders of the crew. It would take them a month and a half round trip, Pellew had surmised, and would be relatively easy. Looking back on the catastrophic voyage, Horatio could have laughed. For the first week, all he could do was berate himself for the failure at Muzillac, and more at the front of his mind, the loss of Mariette. He would go over and over it, the reason he had fallen in love with this French village girl, and never find the answer. He would lie awake at night and think, he would talk with Kennedy for hours, but he could never come up with an answer. So from that fateful night seven days into the voyage when he had woken up crying in his cabin seven nights in a row with Kennedy hovering over him after a dream of Mariette, he had vowed that he would never fall in love again, and save himself this pain a second or third time. Vaguely, he remembered the same thing happening after the death of his mother... the sleepless nights, and telling himself then to grow up and stop crying like some girl.  
After that decision on his part, things seemed to go from bad to worse. While hauling the sails up the crew discovered a rather huge hole in one and had to set about repairing it, adding two more days to their voyage. Then, a French frigate, the Fleur-de-lis, out on it's maiden voyage found them and managed to demast the poor little ship. They were chased for the better part of two more days, all the while trying to fix the mainmast. Finally, the last straw was when the French boarded them, and the crew had no choice but to surrender. Horatio had his jaw clenched as soon as the Frogs got close enough to board and kept it clenched until his carefully planned takeover plan came to fruition. Then, and only then did he relax, and then only when he was totally positive that all the Frogs were taken care of. Of course, as soon as he allowed himself to relax, disaster struck. And struck well and deep. The already crippled Revolution ran afoul of a hidden iceberg less than fifteen miles off the coast of Norway, and forced the English crew and the French prisoners to abandon ship. Hornblower was crushed, even more so than he time he had lost the Marie Galante. That had been partially the idiot French captains fault, he had finally convinced himself. This blunder was all his own, and he fell into a deep depression, which only worsened when a passing ship happened to be a French frigate and not one of the English prizes. So, as the Rules of War dictated, the English crew that was taken aboard the French frigate was now the sole property of the French until 'agreeable' prison quarters could be found.   
Agreeable. Hornblower had almost laughed at that. The French prison was a hellhole. The cell he and Kennedy had been thrown into was less than six feet across and eight feet long. There was barely room to move around the skinny bunks that passed as both chairs and bed, and definitely not enough room for the two's sea chests that had been thrown in with them. The first night was the worst. Kennedy had flashbacks to the Spanish prison and Hornblower was too sunk in his own misery to do anything for him but sit on the side of the bed and hold his friend's wrists so he didn't hurt himself. It was an awful night, and an awful month they spent in confinement. As soon as he could pull himself out of his dark dungeon, Hornblower set himself rather unenthusiastically to coming up with an escape plan. Because he hadn't seen another of his crew except Archie since they were captured by the French, it was with a hope and a prayer that the escape plan went into action. This turn it was Hornblower's turn to become 'ill'. Miraculously, the plan went without a hitch. The guards fell for the deception hook line and sinker, and the English crew was able to escape virtually unscathed. Granted, there were a number of bruises and scrapes but nobody left a noticeable trail of blood anywhere. Another miracle, he realized looking back on it, was the way they had found the small fisherman's sailboat not more than a half mile from the coastal prison. All eighteen men of the captured English crew had managed to squeeze aboard for the week and a half long journey back home.   
The week and a half seemed like a month and a half. Two days out from France they ran into a nasty storm. Mr. Kennedy twisted his ankle and then fell forward and twisted his wrist, Styles was knocked on the head with a loose beam from the boat cabin's roof, and Smithson was pitched over a coil of rope into the deck, dislocating his shoulder. Hornblower had to split his time between trying to keep order on the deck and trying to help his three injured men as best he could. When England's shore finally came into view, nobody was more relieved than Horatio. By then Archie Kennedy had convinced himself that he was indeed well enough to manage a slow hobble along the deck and tried to cheer his exhausted friend up. Horatio refused to be cheered.  
"All in all this went rather well, considering, wouldn't you say, Horatio?" Archie had asked.   
"Go to the devil." he had snapped back, starting to pace along the deck.   
"At least we're all still alive." Kennedy tried again.  
"If we had never embarked on this fool's journey to begin with there wouldn't have been a risk." Horatio snapped as he passed Kennedy for the fifteenth time.   
"We didn't have a choice."  
"I did." Horatio growled through clenched teeth. "I didn't have to choose you to be on my crew."  
Archie had rolled his eyes. "Is that all that's wrong? I'll be up to speed in less than a week, I assure you."  
"It's not just that." Horatio had stalked away, down to the cabin.  
"Horatio? Horatio!" Kennedy had called after him, hobbling his way behind his friend. Horatio had studiously ignored him, leaving the rather miffed Kennedy standing in the cabin doorway worrying. Hornblower had known just what he was thinking, and was *not* in the mood to be worried over.   
The small crew had managed to put in to Spithead smoothly enough and were more than glad to leave the little boat to the harbor authorities. Matthews had fallen to his knees and kissed the English soil as Styles and Oldroyd looked on, laughing. Hornblower had pushed away from them and go to stand behind the stone railing overlooking the half-circle of the harbor. Propping his foot up on the bottom of the railing he leaned forward and looked out at the sunset, silently damning himself for everything that had happened since they had left the Indefatigable. At some point he became aware of Kennedy leaning on the railing next to him.  
"I lost two ships. Two. And the mess at Muzillac. It will be a miracle if I stay in the service after they hear of it." Hornblower blurted out.   
"They won't hold it against you, Horatio." Archie murmured.  
"How do you know?" Horatio snapped. "Two ships, d'ye hear? *Two* ships. Three, if you count the second French ship. How do you lose three ships and ever hope to move up in the world?"   
Archie put a hand on his arm. "Horatio, you're tearing yourself up over nothing."   
"It's not nothing. The Marie Galante. The Revolution. The Fleur-de-lis. Muzillac. I have no promise." Hornblower hissed.  
"Horatio Hornblower, bite your tongue. You're a lieutenant, for God's sake." Kennedy hissed back, getting a little perturbed by his friend's self-destructive attitude.   
"A bad move on the part of the Admiralty."   
"You're a hero in some circles, Horatio. You saved part of the fleet from that fire-ship."  
"And failed the examination for Lieutenant."   
Archie threw up his hands. "If you want to live in the past and kill yourself over your failures, so it be, Horatio. I, for one, am going to report to the naval offices and see if I can get re-assigned."   
"Just don't have a fit on their floor." The caustic remark was out of Horatio's mouth before he knew what he was saying. Kennedy stopped and turned back around. When he spoke, the words were clipped short.  
"Go to the devil, Lieutenant Horatio Hornblower." he spat, and then stalked off.  
Hornblower dropped his head into his hands and sighed. *And now,* he thought, *I have lost three ships and my best friend.*   
  
There was a hideous sound from the middle of the street.   
  
Horses were neighing, wood was cracking... A man was shouting.. shouting something about sweet Jesus he didn't mean to. Hornblower turned to see a greengrocers' wagon stopped in the middle of the street, the horses cockeyed and skewed in their harnesses, and vegetables smashed in the muddy street. The people around him were looking down on the ground.   
He looked down.  
Midshipman Archie Kennedy lay unmoving behind the wagon.   
Horatio stopped thinking and ran, coattails flapping, out into the middle of the street to bend over his friend's prone form. Kennedy's eyes were closed and he was bleeding into the muddy street from all over his body.   
"A doctor!" Horatio was aware of shouting. "Somebody fetch a doctor!" He felt his friend's wrist for a pulse, drawing on what his father had taught him. It was there, thready and faint but still present, and Horatio breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm sorry, Archie, I'm sorry." he muttered. "I didn't want this to happen." A short man in black came running up and dropped his bag next to Hornblower.   
"Fishman" he introduced himself. "Doctor." A quick examination seemed to satisfy him, and he sat back on his haunches and wiped his forehead. "I want to get him back to my clinic as soon as possible. Can you help me?" Horatio nodded. With both of them, they managed to carry Archie the two streets down to Dr. Fishman's clinic and settle him in one of the empty beds. Dr. Fishman shooed Horatio out, telling him he could come back tomorrow, and see how Kennedy was doing, but for now he needed to be alone with the patient. Rather dazedly, Horatio followed instructions and went back out into the street. Sitting on the curb sunk in despair, somehow he developed a plan not only to pay the doctor for his care of Archie, but also to find favor among the other naval officers before news of his disastrous voyage got back to them. Going back to the harbor, he instructed Matthews and Oldroyd to take both his and Archie's sea chests to the clinic and ask Dr. Fishman to keep them under Archie's bed. Once that was done, he brushed off his coat to the best of his ability, and with a heavy heart set off for the Long Street Gambling Rooms.   
His plan failed miserably. All the naval officers who would have heard about his disaster were at sea, and whist was not a game in favor among the rooms' gamblers. For every pound he made, he lost two, and was soon completely and utterly out of money. That was when the fever started to take hold. The winter of that year, staying in the most inexpensive accommodations he could find, Hornblower started to develop a bad hacking cough and get awful headaches as many as four days a week.   
From that it was a short fall to find himself thrown out of his lodging with no money to his name, sick and weak. He had lived in the gutter for the better part of two weeks before stumbling in front of the brothel and deciding he was too tired to get up again.   
Of course, when Meridith had pulled him out of his face down in the muck position he was so far gone in his sickness and dream of failure at Muzillac that it was a miracle he was even able to ask after Mariette.   



	3. Haunted Forever?

Meridith, for one, had absolutely no time for thinking back on anything, much less regretting it after the fact. As soon as her foot had hit the ground level floor things had been thrown at her one after another. Sandra needed her black corset fixed. After hunting out the black thread and a decent unbent needle, Meridith re-attached the flopping lace and stitched the whalebone back into its pocket. Anne needed her transparent shift re-hemmed. This made Meridith go on another hunt for a different color of thread. After the shift was hemmed, Anne handed her another, in yet another color. With a muttered curse, Meridith found yet another color of thread and whipped the hem back to a reasonable length. Four stitches away from the end, Julia found Meridith doing her needlework on the stairs and pulled her away to peel potatoes. After finishing the last potato, she was sent off with the wine flasks to put in every room where Ashley grabbed Meridith's wrist and pulled her off to help tighten bodice stings.   
"And I met this gambler on the docks," Ashley was twittering. "He's coming tonight, and he's overflowing in money!" Rolling her eyes, Meridith turned Ashley around and wrapped the bodice strings around her hands, bracing herself against the foot of the bed and pulling as hard as she could. Ashley's best feature, truth be told and as far as Meridith could see her only feature that was worth being proud of, was a nineteen inch waist. Meridith tied the strings in a jolly old knot at Ashley's waist that would send any sailor spinning in his hammock. Grinning at the irony of this thought, she gave Elise's strings a good yank, and then picked up her wine flasks and set off again to try to get the rooms stocked for the night's 'business.' Doubtless tomorrow night it would be the same as tonight and last night and the night before. With a sigh, Meridith finished pouring the wine into the last flask and left the room. As she got to the first landing, there was a knock on the door. *and it isn't even DARK yet..* she thought. *Someone's a bit eager.* Setting the flask down and wiping her hands on her skirt, she pulled the heavy oak door open.   
The man standing outside was in every way a dandy. He took off his ostrich-plumed hat and bowed to Meridith, who stood there looking at him rather skeptically.   
"I am Sir Henry Askens." he said by way of introduction. "I was told I could find the services of Ashley Montocant at this address."   
Meridith opened the door wider to allow the silk-clad Askens inside. "I'll go see if Ashley is in tonight. Have a seat." She gestured him towards the ornate sitting-room and then trudged up the stairs to get Ashley.   
It was always the same. The men came, some to remember, some to forget, they were taken away by the girls up the their entertaining rooms and the rest of the night was one chore after another for Meridith. The girls had decided that the best way to get what they wanted quickly was to stick their heads out their doors and screech at the top of their lungs, "Meridith! Fetch more wine!" Meridith, for her part, was obliged to run their errands and fetch their items. While there was a lull in the demands, Meridith spent her time curled up in the empty sitting room reading whatever had been left behind by the girls' customers. Tonight it was a dog eared copy of some romance novel set in America left by Ashley's gambler dandy, and the story was so improbable that Meridith found herself laughing out loud at parts. Finally giving up on the rather stupid book, she tucked her feet up under her skirts and watched the thunderstorm brewing outside. It was going to be a good one, she could tell.   
"Meridith!" came a scream from the third floor-it sounded farther away than normal. "Fetch the hot water!" Sighing, Meridith pried herself out of the chair and went in search of the tin bucket.   
As she was pouring the water from the cauldron over the fire into the bucket to take upstairs there was a piercing scream. Sighing, Meridith ignored it. Strange sounds in this house were nothing out of the ordinary on any give night. As she started up the stairs lugging the bucket there was another scream. This time it was a scream of terror and pain and slowly, it began to dawn on Meridith where the screams were coming from.   
"Oh HELL." she muttered, and quickened her pace up the stairs. Another scream, and she dropped the bucket at the top of the flight, hoping that whoever it was who had yelled would have the presence of mind to come out and find it. Gathering her layers and layers of skirts up in her hands, she took the last two flights of stairs two at a time running and burst through the door as another scream split the air. Lieutenant Horatio Hornblower must have been having one of the worst dreams of his life. He was thrashing around, and had succeeded in kicking all the bedclothes onto the floor. The crate that did its duty as a bedside table had been overturned, and the jam jar with flowers in it had cracked on the floor. Hornblower was drenched in sweat and pale as a sheet, his hair loose and sticking to his face. Meridith was somewhat at a loss as to what she could do.   
"Meridith!" It was the same voice screeching at her.   
With a muttered oath, Meridith leaned over the banister "At the top of the stairs!" she yelled back, then closed her door so she wouldn't have to hear the girls' commands, leaning on it as she tried to gather herself back together. Horatio cried out again and threw his arms up in front of him as if to ward something away.   
Crossing the room in two strides, Meridith took hold of one of his wrists and put her other hand on his sweaty forehead. He struck out with his free hand, catching Meridith and knocking her off balance and sprawling to the floor before catching his own wrist on the bedpost and howling in pain.   
"Serves you right!" Meridith said indignantly as she picked herself up off the floor. If it was possible, he was hotter now than he had been before. It was high time that she got the fever brew into him, but if he was going to continue to be hostile, she wasn't sure if she wanted to risk either herself or one of Ms. Brummel's good earthenware mugs. Of course, once he woke up he might be a little more reasonable. Meridith finally decided that looked like the most promising avenue to take next. Sitting down on the side of the bed, she leaned over and put a hand on his shoulder.   
"Mr. Hornblower?"   
He jerked away. Meridith rolled him back over and held him there. "Horatio. Horatio!" He struggled, then lashed out and caught Meridith in the shoulder, making her lose her hold, and then rolled onto his side. Slightly peeved, Meridith let him be, retreating slightly. She turned the bedside crate back to its former position, and set the now cold herbal brew on top of it, then sat down on the trunk under the window. *Stubborn bugger* She leaned her forehead on the cold glass of the window and looked out through the raindrops. The rain was coming down fast and hard, and making a pattering noise on the windowpane. The thunder cracked once overhead, as if getting warmed up. Behind her, Horatio called out softly- a name.... Mariette again. He had his lanky body curled up near the edge of the bed with one hand trailing over the side and onto the floor. Meridith knelt on the floor so she was more or less at the same level he was and held the loose hand.   
"Mariette... no.." he murmured. He was shaking all over, curled up as tightly as he could. Meridith put a hand on his face.   
"Horatio... Horatio, wake up. Just wake up."   
"No... she's not.. I'm not leaving.... no, Archie... no!" He was calling out in a hoarse voice. Meridith shook him gently.   
"Horatio.. wake up. You need to wake up now."   
"NO!" The scream was wrenched out of him. Tears dripped across his face from under long dark lashes and he started sobbing incoherently. Meridith did her best to calm him down, and eventually was rewarded with a heaving sigh. Slowly, Horatio's eyelids fluttered, and then opened, again leaving Meridith staring into chocolate brown eyes. She smiled at him.   
"You were having a nightmare."   
He sighed again and looked away from her as if embarrassed.   
"No, don't worry. It's nothing to be ashamed of."  
He looked back at her accusatorily and a single tear escaped from his right eye. He dashed it away angrily.  
"It's everything to be ashamed of." he whispered. "It means I'm a failure. A complete and utter failure." He looked away again and another tear slid down his cheek before he took his hand roughly out of hers and turned weakly to face the other way.   
"Oh, Mr. Hornblower..." Meridith trailed off. He obviously had the weight of some great losses resting on his shoulders. With a sigh, she climbed off the floor and sat on the edge of the bed. "Mr. Hornblower, I'm not going to lie to you. I'm not going to tell you that everything is going to be fine, because obviously it's not, and whatever is making it that way is out of my power to change. What I'm going to do, Mr. Hornblower, is tell you that I will do what I can to rid you of your fever, and I will be a sympathetic ear if you want to talk. That's all I can offer." As she was talking, Meridith was smoothing the wet dark hair away from his face and gathering it at the back of his neck. With one hand she dug through her pockets until she found a thin black ribbon left over from the repair of Sandra's corset and tied his dark curls back. Meridith sighed and tucked both feet up under her, crossing her legs and leaning back against the headboard of the bed.   
Slowly and quietly, Horatio turned back over to face her and rested his head on her thigh. She straightened the sleeve of his shirt, and that simple gesture was enough to choke him with tears again.   
"Go ahead and cry, Horatio." she murmured, and his tears fell. And he was crying for everything and for nothing. He was crying for himself and for the things Simpson had done and for Cleveland who had died for him and crying for Finch and for Bunting and for oh God, for Mariette and for Archie who might be dying because of him and he was crying and he was crying and oh God he didn't think he would ever stop. Then he felt Meridith stroking his hair and he sobbed even harder. "That's it, Mr. Hornblower," she was saying "Just let it all out, let it come out." And he was reaching for her and she was holding his hand and then he was in her arms and he was crying into her neck and she was telling him he would be all right, he would be all right. He stayed like that, the tears flowing for what seemed like ages, Meridith stroking his back and whispering words of encouragement the whole time. With a last heaving sob the tears slowed and Horatio lay exhausted in Meridith's arms. She helped him lie back down and then put one hand on his forehead. It was more than high time he had the fever broth. She stood to retrieve it and stirred it with one finger as she sat back down beside him.   
"Mr. Hornblower, do you think you could drink this if I helped you?"   
"What...?" he croaked, a bit leery of pouring some unknown potion down his throat. If it was anything like Dr. Hepplewhite's unknown liquids, the cure could be worse than the disease and he would regret it in a short time.   
Meridith smiled. "Meadowsweet, willow bark and peppermint. It should help lower your fever. I'm afraid it's not warm anymore, but the peppermint should help disguise the willow bark." She held his head up and helped him tip the liquid concoction into his mouth. From the face he made, Meridith could tell that she should have added more peppermint. Setting the now empty mug on the bedside crate, she stood and gathered the strewn bedclothes off the floor. Depositing them on the foot of the bed, she set about straightening them out again. As she tucked the end of the sheet around the foot of the bed she paused.   
"Bloody hell!" Meridith exclaimed. "You've torn my darning out again, Mr. Hornblower!"  
"Horatio." he murmured, almost asleep.   
"Hmm?" She looked up at him.   
"Call me Horatio." As soon as the words were out of his mouth he questioned himself. Why on earth was he telling her to use his hated given name? What had possessed him?  
Meridith was looking at him, paused in the motion of tucking the blanket in.   
Something inside him was screaming, stretched to breaking, yelling *no, no, don't let her, tell her no!* But his lips were moving, forming the word yes.   
"All right then, Horatio." She said the name as if tasting it, and then smiled.   
*What did you DO?* Horatio's mental voice screamed at him. *As long as she was treating you as the superior you would have been fine! No you're both on even footing! With a girl! A meddling GIRL! And you remember Mariette, don't you? The *last* girl you let use that name. And now look. Look what you've set yourself up for.* There was a hand on his shoulder and he flooded back to reality, shaking. Meridith was standing over him, one hand on his shoulder.   
"I... I'm sorry." he murmured, unable to meet her worried gaze. *And now you APOLOGIZE? She'll break your heart within a week, you spineless sniveling boy...* *Shut UP!* Horatio mentally screamed at the voice, which he had just realized sounded eerily like Jack Simpson. *Shut up and leave me alone!* The voice faded, laughing sinisterly.   
"No, that's all right," Meridith was saying. "Are you cold? Do you want the blanket?"   
"Yes. I think so... yes, yes please." The voice of Simpson had rattled him more than he wanted to admit, and he accepted the warm blankets gratefully as Meridith tucked them around him. Horatio sighed and closed his eyes. The sigh was echoed by Meridith , who ran her fingers through her hair and glanced at the door.   
"I should probably go see what havoc the others have wreaked."  
"Others?"   
"The wharf girls. At least that's what I call them collectively."   
"You mean you don't rent this room?"  
Meridith shook her head. "Heavens, no.... well, I suppose I do rent it in a way. I work for Ms. Brummel and the girls, and in turn for that I get to stay here. Of course I have to buy everything I need except food, but I suppose it's better than it could be."  
"The wharf girls.. they work for Ms. Brummel too?"   
"In a way. If you could call it work, what they do, then I guess you could say they work for her." Meridith restlessly fidgeted with the empty mug.  
"I don't understand." Horatio turned to face her.   
She met his gaze. "As a sailor, you've never heard of the Brummel House?"  
"Brummel... " He knew he had heard of it, but it wasn't focusing in his brain where. Then all of a sudden it hit him. "Brummel House... the brothel? The whorehouse?"  
Meridith nodded sadly and set the mug down.  
Horatio was in disbelief "You're one of them? The working girls?" He recoiled from her touch as she straightened the blanket. A wave of disgust passed over him and he struggled away from her.   
"No, no.. I'm only the healer. Ms. Brummel keeps me on in case any of the girls get sick or hurt.. she wants as much money as possible on any given night."  
The look on Horatio's face told her that he didn't believe a word of it.   
Meridith shrugged. "You can not believe me if you'd like, but I'm not one of them. I'm only here until I can find somewhere else to support myself. Mrs. Glouster would take me in, but she's old and I don't want to burden her." Abruptly Meridith stood, picking up the mug and the pitcher. Good night, Lieutenant."   
Horatio watched her for a moment. Something in the way she carried herself told him that she had been telling the truth. She couldn't be one of the wharf girls. In fact, he had serious doubts she had ever been courted by a man, much less been selling herself to them.   
Meridith scrubbed the mug out with a corner of her apron and set it back down on top of the trunk holding her herbs and plants. The pitcher she held onto, and turned the handle on the door with her free hand.   
"Wait..." Horatio whispered.  
Meridith turned back around, holding the door open with her hip and looked at him.   
"Could you.." he was hoarse and coughed to clear his throat. "Could you stay here? In case... in case I start dreaming again? I'm sorry.."   
A look of sympathy flitted across her face and she let the door close, putting the pitcher down.   
"No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't unload my troubles on you." Meridith sighed. "But that's beside the point. You need rest. Do you think you could get to sleep if I stayed here?"   
Horatio nodded weakly and closed his eyes. He felt the bed shift slightly as Meridith sat down beside him and then her hand on his forehead. She made a clucking sound with her tongue.   
"You're still burning up. But sleep now, and we'll see what morning brings."   
Horatio sighed and nestled deeper into the welcoming warmth of the bedclothes. He hadn't felt this good in months, and it was definitely a welcome change. He had hardly had time to think this before he was deeply asleep. Meridith quickly followed, her head leaning against the battered oak headboard. Her words echoed through the silence   
*We'll see what morning brings*  



	4. Visting Hours

  
Meridith was dreaming. Dreaming of home, the plantation where the grain rippled in the wind like a great golden ocean and her siblings ran in and out of the tall corn laughing and chasing the crows away. She was lying on the riverbank, her feet in the sparkling river... and she had a knot in her neck that felt like one of the plowhorses had stepped on her. With a moan, she gave up on the dream and floated back into reality, one hand massaging her neck. At least she though she was back in the real world. She had to blink a few times before she was convinced that she wasn't seeing things.   
Horatio was curled on his side, facing away from her and sleeping soundly. There was someone leaning over and examining him closely. The other person put out a hand and rested it on his cheek. Horatio rolled onto his back, and the other person's hand went right though his chin. Meridith's eyes widened, and she jerked back.   
The other person looked up, startled.   
Meridith gasped in disbelief. She was staring at Gabriel. Gabriel! He gave her a sheepish smile and gestured down at Horatio.   
"He's not doing so well."  
"Gabriel?" she managed to choke out. "Gabriel?"   
Gabriel nodded, not meeting her gaze.   
"H..how? Why?" She got to her feet and put her hands out to him.   
"I don't know." He reached out to her, trying to take her hands. It felt like the river in January, ice cold but still flowing and it tingled. Gabriel looked at their hands rather sorrowfully. "Maybe it wasn't my time to go and I did. I'm not sure. I've been around since.. well..."  
Meridith nodded. She knew. Not all the gristly details, but she knew.  
"This is the first time I think anyone's been able to see me. I watched you grow up, you know. I followed you more than any of the others. Thomas always watched Susan when he could." He put his hands just millimeters from her face. Meridith put one hand to her mouth and tears sprang into her eyes. "Oh, Merri, don't cry, please, don't cry." Gabriel begged her. It was too late. The tears spilled down over her cheeks. Gabriel futilely tried to wipe them away for her.  
"Oh Gabriel," she whispered. "You don't know how many times I wished I had known you. Father wouldn't talk about you.. he said it hurt too much, and.. I... oh, I wish I could hug you."   
"I know. I feel the same." Gabriel turned away and looked down at the sleeping Horatio again. "There's something wrong with his lungs, as well as the fever."   
Meridith was quizzical. "His lungs?" She put her ear to his chest. "He sounds fine."   
Gabriel said nothing, but shook his head. He was fading. " I have to go, Merri. Stay strong."   
"No.. wait.. no... will you be back?"  
HE shook his head. "I'm not sure, Merri. It's only once in a while I can see you, but when I can, I'll try to make you know I'm here.... I love you, Merri.." He tried to kiss her cheek, leaving the side of her face tingling, and faded out to nothing. She bit her lip, trying to keep the tears back, but failed and turned away from where Gabriel had been. So close and yet so far, so horribly far.   
That was when Horatio began to cough, a hoarse hacking cough that made his whole body shake. Meridith pt her hand on his forehead again. He was still roasting with fever. He gasped for air and coughed again, this time so hard he gagged and woke himself up. Horatio's shoulders heaved and Meridith was just quick enough to get the empty chamber put in front of him before his stomach turned itself over. He retched and retched, face white, losing what little was in his stomach to start with. After what seemed like an eternity, his innards quieted and he lay back, sweating and pale, gripping the sheets with white knuckles. Meridith emptied the earthenware pot and put it back into its place under the bed. Horatio looked miserable, his eyes closed. He was battling so many things inside him, the sickness that was keeping him here, the fact that he hated himself for staying here and imposing on the girl, Meridith, that he wouldn't admit to himself that he liked the attention. And now she was leaning over him whit that damned concerned look in her eyes and putting her hand on his forehead. He closed hi eyes again and let her tuck the blankets around his shaking body wordlessly.   
"I'm sorry, Kennedy..." he whispered.  
Meridith took note of the name.   
  
************************************  
The next thing he remembered was waking up to the sunlight glinting off a silver pitcher across the room. There was the sound of water sloshing into a vessel of some sort and he opened his eyes slowly. Meridith was standing at the wash-basin drying her face and wearing nothign but a chemise and her petticoats. His sense of modesty told him he shouldn't watch, that he should turn around or close his eyes, but for some strange reason he didn't. He was hypnotized by how quickly she ran the laces through her stays and pulled them tight, tying them at the small of her back. She turned to lift her skirt from the back of a chair an Horatio was irrationaly afraid that she would turn and find him watching her. She dropped the skirt over her head and tied the wait ties, then dropped the separate jacket over her head and fastened the ties. Horatio shifted, making the bed creak, and Meridith turned to face him. She smiled.   
"Are you feeling any better?"   
HE nodded weakly. "A little."   
Meridith wet one f the washrags down in the washbasin and wrung it out, taking it to Horatio and putting it on his forehead. "I want you to get as much sleep as you can today. I have to go out and run an errand or two and I should be back by noon." She picked her cape up from the floor near the door and draped it over her shoulders. Taking her small basket, she closed the doors behind her and trudged down the stairs yet again. She knew that today was one of her two non-marketing day and that she would have the morning to herself if she got out early enough. Today was the day she was going to find some answers. She closed the heavy oaken main doors behind her and looked out on the already bustling muddy street. There was a drizzle in the air today, and she pulled her hood up. With a sigh, she started down into the very underbelly of Spithead.  
  
She was looking for the Cart and Bull tavern. It was an extremely disreputable place, the kind of disreputable place that drew all the landed sailors. Sailors that would know other sailors who, in turn would know others and others and others.  
The Brummel house was right on the edge of the seediest part of Spithead, which Meridith knew her way around all too well. Past the Morgan house, and the smaller gaol and the Running Ferret. It was on a corner, the Cart and Bull, being the very armpit of Spithead society. Today was no different. Even in broad daylight, the daylight of the morning there was loud raucous noise emerging from every door and window.   
Steeling herself for whatever lay ahead, Meridith pulled the door open and entered. It was emptier that what was normal, and for that she was grateful. Even so, she was not more than four feet inside when a loud wolf whistle came from somewhere on her right and the hem of her cloak was lifted. She shot the man her most heart-piercing glare and he backed off. She realized just what she had gotten herself into. She had come in here to find a sailor. One sailor. A single specific sailor out of all the seething masses of humanity that frequented this place. It was a futile idea. With a sigh, she pushed on through the crowd.   
"Well, if it isn't my favorite little un-prostitute. Or so she claims." a voice hissed roughly in her ear.   
"Devil take you, Stephan Jenkins." She kept walking.   
"Ooh, they do breed them feisty at the Brummel House, don't they?" There was a hand at her waist, trying to find its way to the opening of her cloak. "Just the way I like them."  
"Stephan." she snapped. He removed his hands and backed up a half step.   
"Ooh, I'm sorry." he said in a mocking tone. He was a dark featured man in his early thirties who had been brought to the house by Julia one night and instead taken a shining to Meridith. He had shown up repetitively for a month, trying to get Meridith's 'business', (much to Julia's dismay,) until Meridith had quite soundly verbally beat him about the ears. The beating only served to keep him away from her in polite society, though. Here, they were on his terms, and it was up to Meridith to keep the game fair. Meridith swatted his roving hand away again.   
"Stephan, if you want to help me, you can tell me if you've ever heard of someone."  
He raised a cocky eyebrow. "What would be in it for me?"   
"Julia's available Wednesday if you help me."   
"But you're not." He reached for her again.   
"How many bloody times must we go through this? I am not available. I will never be available for buggers like you."   
He withdrew his hand, looking hurt, and considered it for a moment. "Julia on Wednesday, eh? I suppose you've got yourself a deal. Who are you looking for?" He rubbed his hands together.   
"I don't know if it's two people or one... Archie and Mr. Kennedy. He or they or at least one of them's a sailor."  
"And for this I get Julia? I should do business with you more often. There was a Mr. Archie Kennedy trampled by Carlson's wagon about a month or two ago. The last I heard of him he was at Fishman's. He's some sort of big news though, a naval type of some sort. Not anything you could talk to."   
Meridith drank in the information, and was off before Stephen had finished talking, pushing through the humanity that packed the Cart and Bull. The she was out, out the door with a joyful heart, knowing that she was on the right track.   
Fishman's clinic was where most of the lower classes went to. He was actually, truth be told, one of the more skilled healers in Spithead, but couldn't afford the equipment and placement that the others could. Dr. Fishman was too soft hearted, and lost money helping people free of charge. It didn't surprise her at all that this Archie Kennedy would be there. She knocked at Dr. Fishman's door, praying he was already up.   
The door opened a crack and the doctor's long nose poked out. Realizing who it was, the door opened wider to admit her, and as she stepped inside, Meridith was wrapped in a bear hug by the diminutive doctor.   
"Meridith Martin! It has been too long since you came around to see me! And here I am, just trying to tidy up after all of last night! Would you know we had three drunkard fights and one man who fell over the upper railing of his house, breaking both his legs? It was quite amazing, I tell you..."   
"-Dr. Fishman." Meridith interrupted.   
"But then, where was I? Why are you here m'girl, this early in the morning?"   
Meridith smiled. "I'm looking for someone. I was told he was one of your patients. Mr. Archie Kennedy?"   
Dr. Fishman tapped his nose with his short index finger. "Kennedy, Kennedy... Kennedy! Yes! He's the sailor. He was run over by a greengrocer cart not more than a month ago... but what would you want to know about him?"  
"Dr. Fishman, I need to talk to him... it's to.. to help a friend."   
Dr. Fishman's rotund face contorted itself into a smile. "Well, anything for the sake of friendship, eh Meridith! He's in here." Dr. Fishman disappeared through one of the open doors. "He's over here, in the room you get to from under the stairs..." There was an urgent knock on the door. Dr. Fishman brightened. "I assume you can find it?" Without waiting for an answer, he darted off to answer the door.   
Luckily, Meridith had been all throughout the Fishman clinic and knew her way around. She knocked gently on the door under the stairs, and not getting a reply, quietly pushed it open. The windowless room's only source of light was the stub of a candle sitting next to the bed. Meridith tiptoed over to stand inside the circle of light. MR. Archie Kennedy was not at all what she had expected. He was a small, almost frail looking man- almost more of a boy, like Mr. Hornblower. Pale blonde hair fanned out on the pillow, and he was sleeping soundly. The bedsheet was rumpled half over him and his shirt was gone, revealing dark angry looking stitches in two irregular lines down his white chest. He was bruised awfully all over the exposed places of his body, and one bandaged hand rested lightly beside him.   
Moving closer, Meridith stubbed her toe on something hard and unyielding under the bed. Curious, she lifted the candle down. Kennedy stirred restlessly in his sleep. She paused, then put the candle down to the offending mass. It was a large oaken chest, very solid and nailed together securely. Something gold glinted on top, and Meridith brushed the dust off of it. It was a placard of some sort, and she bent closer to read it.   
~ Horatio Hornblower~  
~HMS Indefatigable~  
*His sea chest!* she realized with a start. There was another one under the bed that she presumed would be Archie's *They must have been friends, the best of friends. And now, both of their situations leaving them like this...* Her heart went out to both of the young men.   
Kennedy suddenly jerked, and started breathing hard, all his muscles tense. HE whimpered once, twice, and then started to shake uncontrollably. Meridith hurriedly set the candle down and doffed her cloak, setting the basket inside it.   
"Mr. Kennedy... Mr. Kennedy!" she whispered. There was no response except for him shaking harder. A scream escaped from his lips. *Epileptic.. epileptic fits. Just like Franklin.* She had had a childhood friend who had been epileptic. She did exactly what she had done for him when he had been overcome in fits. Climbing onto the bed, she took Archie Kennedy's shaking body and held him there in her lap until he weakened and then stopped. His eyes opened and he stared up at her, emotions flickering across his face.   
"I.. I'm sorry, m'lady. I.. I.. can't say what..."  
"Shh, Mr. Kennedy. You've done nothing amiss." Meridith whispered. That seemed to put him a little more at ease.   
"I'm sorry.. I don't know you, do I?"   
"No, Mr. Kennedy, you don't know me. My name is Meridith, Meridith Martin." She was tucking him back into his bed as she talked, careful of the stitches in his chest. "I came to see you and you were asleep. I'm sorry I caught you at a bad time. I just.. " her voice faltered. "I was just directed here... in a roundabout sort of way... because he kept calling for you, and saying he was sorry.. I had to find you somehow and put him out of his misery, but I'm afraid I've just put you into more..." she trailed off, flustered.   
Archie looked at her somewhat confused but with an inkling about of what she was speaking. "You mean.." he whispered. "you mean you know where.. where.. where." Archie couldn't' get the name out.  
"I know where Horatio Hornblower is... and he keeps calling for you..."  
Archie was speechless.   
"I wanted you to come with me... so he could see you... but I don't know.. " Meridith continued. "I'm sorry, forgive me for intruding, please, forgive me. I didn't mean to make what you've been through any harder."  
Archie was absolutely speechless. It was like a ray of sunlight had just penetrated the gloomy dark room and touched his heart. Immediately he was alert and active again, trying to swing his legs over the edge of the bed.   
"Where is he? Where? You must take me to him, wherever he is, is he hurt? Is he in trouble? Where is he?"   
Meridith was trying to support Kennedy and keep him in the bed. "He's not hurt, Mr. Kennedy, just ill, and he's.. well, he's staying with me.. at the house."  
The way she said 'the house' gave Kennedy pause, and he recoiled from her. "Are you.. are you..." his voice dropped to a whisper.. "a working girl?" There was such disgust in his voice that it almost sickened Meridith.   
"NO, no... Mr. Kennedy, please, believe me.. I stay at the Brummel House, but I am naught but the healer, I swear to you, Mr. Kennedy. Mr. Hornblower has been in my care and he will get better."  
"you must take me to him. You must!" Archie was emphatic.   
At that moment Dr. Fishman came in.   
"Ah! Meridith! I see you have found my star patient!"  
"Dr. Fishman! You must let me out. I have to go with her. I have to see Horatio.. I have to know how he is doing!"   
Dr. Fishman looked at Meridith and then at Archie.   
"I for one, think the fresh air would do him a world of good. That is, if he can walk."  
"I can walk, Dr. Fishman, most definitely, I can walk!" Archie swung his legs over the side of the bed and managed to take three tottering steps towards Meridith before losing his balance and falling in an undignified way back towards the bed. Dr. Fishman made a tsking noise in his throat, and Kennedy's face fell.   
"Doctor, please. He's.. I.. I haven't seen him in a month.. and if Meridith says he's not doing well.." Kennedy begged.  
"Well obviously you're not doing so well either. I think it will have to wait… ah ah!" Fishman stifled Archie's protests before they even started. "How about next week?"  
Meridith could tell Archie's spirits were getting lower and lower. "Archie, I'll try to visit you, every other day. I'll help you get strong enough to see him."   
"You would? You would do that for me?" Archie didn't know if he wanted to believe it or not.   
Meridith nodded. "I will. I'll be here on Wednesday. And I'll tell you how Horatio is doing, and I'll help you get better. I promise."   
Archie looked to the doctor for confirmation.   
"You heard her. If she says she'll be here, she will be here." He took her by the hand. "And now Ms. Martin, would you mind leaving my patient to his healing?" He let her pick up her basket and cloak, then led her out, closing the door behind them. "You will be here. You can't let that boy down. I don't know what has happened in his past, but it wasn't gentle, I can tell you that. He's been lethargic, then almost violent, then the next minute crying like a baby. If you let him down and don't come, I don't want to imagine what he would do."   
Meridith was shocked. "Doctor! I am as good as my word. I will come, no matter what. I swear on the American soil, that I will come every other day and help him."   
Dr. Fishman grinned broadly and clapped her on the back. "That's my girl. I knew you would come through. Away with you now. I have things to attend to!" 


End file.
